


25 Days of Fic (2020 edition)

by corneroffandom



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Impact Wrestling | Total Nonstop Action Wrestling, Ring of Honor, World Wrestling Entertainment, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 18,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27820885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corneroffandom/pseuds/corneroffandom
Summary: A glimpse into how various wrestlers celebrate the holidays.
Relationships: Aiden English/Alexander Rusev, Aleister Black | Tommy End/Velveteen Dream, Alexa Bliss/Mickie James, Angélico/Matt Cross | Son of Havoc/Ivelisse Vélez, Ariya Daivari/Drew Gulak, Ashley Remington | Dalton Castle/Brandon Tate/Brent Tate, Carmella/James Ellsworth, Chad Gable/Jason Jordan, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black, Enzo Amore/Colin Cassady, Ethan Carter III | Derrick Bateman/Rockstar Spud, Lana/Tamina Snuka, Mike Bennett/Matt Taven, Nakamura Shinsuke/Okada Kazuchika, Pac | Adrian Neville/T. J. Perkins | Manik, Pete Dunne/Ricochet | Prince Puma, Robbie E/DJ Zema Ion, Santos Escobar/Raul Mendoza, Shane McMahon/A.J. Styles, Wade Barrett/Heath Slater, Zack Ryder/Dolph Ziggler
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	1. Ambrollins

"Time off," Mox says slowly, watching Seth settle in on the couch.

"Yes," he says simply, undisturbed by those wary blue eyes settled on him.

"You haven't taken time off since what, your back injury?" he says, running through situations to try to make sure he's remembering correctly. "Is something wrong you're not telling me?"

Seth exhales, closes his eyes, and tilts his face to look at Jon. "Sometimes distance makes the heart grow fonder." When Jon only looks more confused at this, Seth chuckles lowly. "What do I truly have on Smackdown right now? Buddy," his voice grows bitter at this, "chose the Mysterios over me. Everyone else has left."

It's then that Mox realizes AoP's release months back still weighs heavily on Seth. And, probably deep down in a place Seth wouldn't easily admit to, his own _leaving_ as well. He shrugs. "Alright." Settles in next to Seth and toys with the label of his water. "So what are you going to do then?"

Seth sits for a minute. Even without wrestling, he still has a million things- his training school, his coffee shop, everything struggling right now due to COVID. Still, he thinks it over, a small grin spreading over his face as he turns to look at Dean. "Enjoy the holiday season, of course."

Jon squints at him, a vague dread building up in his gut. "Oh no."

Seth's grin only grows. "Oh _yes,_ " he whispers, leaning in to rest dangerously close to Jon's lips. "And _you,_ my lunatic friend, are going to help me with it."

Jon grimaces. Decorating is a big, frustrating chore that he's still not a huge fan of. But Seth _does_ look happier once it's done, lighter, like it reminds him of childhood days when things were so much easier and he didn't continuously put the weight of the entire wrestling world on his shoulders with titles like _King Slayer_ and _Messiah._ "Yeah," Jon finally sighs, giving into the glimmer of hope in Seth's eyes. "We can do that."

The grin spreading slowly over Seth's face, pure and sincere for the first time in a long time, makes it all almost worth it.


	2. American Alpha

It's late. The apartment is dark, quiet. Chad Gable sighs and shakes his head as he quietly drops his things into the hallway closet, well aware that Jason is probably fast asleep by now. He tries to wait up for him but sometimes Chad and Otis get so lost in their workouts, constantly testing each other during their meetings that Otis still tries to call Karnage Shack for whatever reason, that it's well past midnight before Chad realizes.

Something that is slowly, steadily, cutting more and more into the free time that he was accustomed to spending with Jason. He misses him. Eyes shutting, he walks through the apartment, about to slip into the bathroom to get ready for bed when there's a small click next to him and he blinks hard, glancing over to the right as lights begin to flash, colorful and festive breaking through the shadows. "Huh...?"

He walks into the living room and immediately stops short. All of their Christmas stuff had been dragged out of storage and is now stacked up around the room, Jason sitting among it all with a small smirk on his face, features lit up in red, green, and gold. "Welcome home, Chad," he says, voice low and smooth in a way that does interesting things to Chad's insides.

"What is all this?" he asks, as awkward as ever.

Jason just chuckles and gets to his feet, wandering over to stroke a hand down Chad's arm. "Christmas, Chad. What's it look like?" he teases, leaning in to kiss him slow and sweet, Chad swaying into his warmth. "I did the parts you don't like- the lights, and whatever else. Now all we have to do is put the ornaments on. But _you,_ my friend, look exhausted so it can wait until morning."

Chad _wants_ to work on everything right now, make some hot chocolate and settle into the old familiar rhythms with Jason as they dance around each other, putting bulbs and ornaments in their places, recalling all of the fond memories over the years spent just like this with Jason by his side. But he can barely keep his eyes open so he nods quietly. "That sounds incredible," he whispers, hands pressing gently against Jason's jaw as he holds him in place, kissing him intently. "I love you."

Jason grins against his lips and hums. "I love you too." His arms curl warmly around Chad's waist and they glance over at the tree with small grins on their faces, taking a few moments just to indulge in the beginning stages of festive cheer before Chad starts to nod off standing up, and Jason's fingers curl around Chad's hand to patiently guide him to bed.


	3. The Kingdom

The holidays are different this year. Mike Taven has to admit that. He's sprawled out on a couch, tapping his fingers against a mug of hot chocolate, marshmellows melting lazily within, and he's watching the Christmas tree across the room sparkling merrily as lights flash and shift. It's mesmerizing, but as soon as steps start to come his way, he stirs, and shifts around to make room for Michael Bennett, handing him a mug.

"Oh, hey, thanks," Mike says with a smile that leaves Matt feeling warm too. "Sorry it took so long, the kids wanted more stories, they just kept wanting to hear about different adventures Santa has had over the years."

Taven chuckles into his mug, brows lifting when Mike drapes an arm around him and draws him closer, pressing a kiss to the shaved part of his hair, lingering there for a minute. "It's ok, I was content waiting for you here." He tips his mug at the tree, and mumbles, "Maria did a hell of a job. As always."

"She really did," Mike chuckles, remembering the fury of activity Maria had been on the weekend following Thanksgiving, putting the tree up, decorating it, stockings hung carefully, other various Christmas decorations finding their way around the house. Both Mike and Matt had tried to help just to get rebuffed, Maria much preferring to decorate her way without either man's hands around to disrupt her. The first couple of years, this had been a bone of contention among the three of them, but now they're just used to it, content to sit back and watch the hurricane of activity from a distance.

"She's something else," Matt murmurs, resting his head back on Mike's shoulder and taking another lengthy sip.

"She is," Mike agrees, hand warm and gentle as it trails slowly up Matt's side.

He makes a noise deep in his throat and Mike glances down at him, a knowing smirk on his face. Their eyes meet and Matt exhales slowly, fingers tapping against Mike's wrist until they shift to hold hands, fingers fitting incredibly well together. "I know I've mentioned it before, but really. I'm _so_ glad you're back in ROH. With me." His eyes gleam with an overwhelming wave of emotions. "And thank you for saving me."

"Oh boy," Mike jokes gently. "Thanksgiving still has you in its grasp, huh?" He tilts Matt's face up and kisses him unhurriedly and gentle, squeezing his hand when Matt trembles in his grasp. "Any time," he finally whispers when they break apart, foreheads resting together as they just breathe each other in, enjoying the moment for as long as they can.


	4. Dunne/Ricochet

2020 hasn't been the best of years. Between Pete staying in England for a lot of it, and Ricochet dealing with so much betrayal in a short period of time that it makes his head spin, now that it's December, he's not entirely sure what to do with himself. He's all alone on Raw, and for now, he's alone at the apartment while Pete is at NXT. He sits on the small patio and stares up at the stars, a miniature Christmas tree flickering in the wind to his left. He smiles painfully and twists his fingers together, waiting.

It isn't too much later when lights flash over where he's sitting and a car pulls up, claims the designated parking spot in front of their apartment. He blinks into the headlights and waits patiently for them to go dark, leaving a glare in his vision once they abruptly do. He still sits there and tilts his head as a car door slams and he listens to the familiar shuffling walk approaching him. "What are you doing out here?"

Pete sounds gruff even on a good day so Ricochet just smiles into the sleeves of his jacket, not bothering to untuck himself from where he's sitting, arms curled around his knees. "Apartment felt too small," he says quietly. "Just felt like coming out and looking up at the stars for awhile."

Pete grunts, and Ricochet figures he didn't have a match tonight, because instead of going right inside and standing under a scalding hot shower for the better part of an hour, he sinks down to sit on the patio and lightly nudges him with his arm until Ricochet exhales through his nose and tips to the side enough to rest his head on Pete's shoulder. Pete makes a faint, pleased noise deep in his throat, and strokes his fingers against Ricochet's neck, up his scalp, back down.

There are a lot of moments like this, quiet and seemingly serene to an outside eye, that mean so much to Ricochet when the emotions between them are too much to say aloud, and it's easier just to _be_ than actually try to over-analyze every little thing. He smiles and tucks in closer, finding Pete's free hand and lightly gripping it. "I'm happy you're home," he whispers against his skin and Pete's fingers still against his skull.

"So am I," he finally admits and Ricochet grins, sharp and bright, against his throat.

2020 may not have been the best of years, but Ricochet has everything he's ever wanted right here next to him, and it does give him hope that the next will be better.


	5. DIY

They're all busy, War Games looming. Candice rests her head against the top rope and tries to breathe, desperate not to completely lose her mind when the match is still days away, and _someone_ has to keep it together while Shotzi's team has the advantage and her team is already somewhat vulnerable with Indi injured and Raquel a little out of it following the ladder match.

Johnny is behind her, muttering to himself, picking at his lip as he mulls over a triple threat match against Priest and Ruff. They're both so lost in their own issues that neither notice as the door to the Performance Center creaks open and someone enters. They do, however, notice, when a familiar laugh echoes through the room.

"Of course. Guess we all had the same idea," Tommaso Ciampa says dryly, intense eyes locked on them. Johnny swallows and Candice pushes away from the ropes, approaching her husband to look down at the man curiously.

She exhales and raises a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Guess so." There's no bitterness in her tone, frankly she's glad to see him up on his feet, looking normal. Thatcher leaving him laying motionless with a demented grin on his face Wednesday had been hard to watch, memories flashing of his neck injury and everything that had come from it.

Johnny hasn't moved or spoken, simply staring down at Ciampa with a dazed look in his eyes, and Candice shakes her head. "Wanna join us?" she asks when it's clear her husband can't. "We're trying to prepare for War Games."

Ciampa doesn't answer yes or no, simply hops up onto the apron and looks Johnny square in the eye until he shuffles aside, allowing Ciampa to enter. The three of them stand in the ring, not quite looking at each other, and when Tommaso finally moves to begin stretching, Johnny settles in at Candice's side to watch him. "What are we doing?" he asks her and she shrugs again.

"I guess we'll find out," she murmurs.

It's a simple ritual, especially before a Takeover. The three of them in the ring, training, sometimes by themselves, something Johnny with Candice, or Candice with Tommaso. It's when the former tag partners are working against each other, though, that that old spark is relit, and Ciampa's eyes blaze with determination and stubborn pride, fighting back twice as hard. Gargano wheezes after a particularly sharp jab to his ribs, gripping Tommaso around the throat and pinning him in place, relieved in some way as Tommaso scrambles, knees Johnny in the side and frees himself. They lay, gasping for air, Candice hovering over them with a concerned look on her face, before she reaches out and grips Johnny's hand, dragging him upright.

As soon as he's somewhat stable, he leans over Ciampa and tilts his head. "Like that," he says quietly. "Fight like that, and you have a chance." Ciampa snarls slightly, but they meet each other halfway, Gargano pulling him to his feet. They then stare at each other for long, tense moments, before Candice clears her throat.

"Let's go get some hot cocoa after we clean up," she says quietly, unsurprised when Ciampa's eyes turn her way. "Apple cider for you. Of course."

Something shifts in Ciampa's face, and for the first time in she can't even remember how long, he _smiles,_ just a lttle, at her. "Fine," he breathes, brushing past her to hit the showers first.

Johnny glances at her, his eyes brighter than they've been in quite awhile, and even she has to admit she feels lighter as she follows them both backstage. Pausing at the light switch, she glances back at the ring and exhales. "I guess Christmas miracles _are_ possible," she whispers, before plunging the training room into darkness.


	6. Mickie/Alexa

Nikki Cross has had limited success in talking to Alexa Bliss. Very rare, because the girl is just lost in Bray Wyatt's clutches, but Nikki is always too pushy about it, tries to confront Alexa about Bray and The Fiend, and ultimately leaves the girl on the defensive, and sometimes, more recently, the _offensive_. Mickie James has sat on the sidelines, first injured because of her knee, then because of a broken nose, but she finds herself re-entering the Thunderdome a couple weeks before Christmas, breathing in deeply as she glances around.

Everything seems quiet, at peace, soft lights twinkling nearby to welcome her, but the pretty visuals do little for her as she walks through halls, waiting and hoping to spot blonde pigtails, or a flash of that weird outfit Bliss has been wearing lately. When she finally _does_ see it, her breath catches deep in her lungs and she has to pause for a moment until she can inhale normally once more. Stepping forward uncertainly, she walks up to her former tag partner and stands there patiently while Alexa giggles to herself and stares off into nothing. "Hey, Lexi," she finally says after a moment, almost amused when the girl jumps and turns to look at her.

"Mickie!" she exclaims, lunging forward to throw her arms around her. It's enthusiastic, almost knocks Mickie clean off of her feet, and she instinctively returns the embrace, breathing in deeply as Alexa lingers in front of her, a bright smile on her face. "I've missed you," she chirps.

Whatever Bray has done to her seems to have enhanced the more child-like parts of Bliss' nature- the stubborn need to have things her way, the awe she has for things like Disney... but it's also enhanced her more vicious ways, like attacking John Morrison and how she's handled things with Nikki lately. Mickie forces a smile and tucks some of Alexa's hair behind her ear. "I've missed you too," she admits softly and Alexa rocks forward, her eyes warm and deep with affection. For a minute, Mickie almost forgets what's going on, why she's really here, and she brushes her fingers down Alexa's cheek, grazing her lips. "Missed you a lot, Lexi."

For a moment, the control over Alexa seems to fade, her face shifts into an almost sad grimace, and then she has Mickie by the arms, a wide grin twisting her expression once more.. "We should go do something! Something fun! Maybe I can introduce you to my new friends!"

Mickie feels a shudder creep down her spine but she does have an idea, yes. "I know what we can do," she says after a moment, a sudden flash of warmth unfurling deep within her when Alexa's eyes brighten. "Come on, Lexi." She squeezes the girl's hand and leads her away, relieved that _this_ at least worked. For now.

Everyone being centered in Florida during all of this mess does have its benefits, Mickie thinks as she stands in Asuka's kitchen and purses her lips at the impressive spread before them. "Ooh," Alexa breathes out, also in awe of all the shiny, pristine surfaces. "What are we doing here?"

"We," Mickie says, stretching to grab a large mixing bowl from the top shelf. "Are going to make Christmas cookies."

Alexa bounces on the heels of her feet and claps excitedly. "Yes!" It's an adventure, for sure. Alexa is like a little kid in a toy shop, watching wide eyed and getting her hands in everything as they make their way through the steps- collecting ingredients, and stirring them all together into a solid, sticky mass, and- Mickie exhales as more dough seems to make its way into Alexa's mouth than on the cookie sheet. She casts a withering stare at the girl when she sees that hand creeping once more in her peripheral. "Lexi," she says warningly and the hand disappears once more, allowing her to return to plopping cookies of the same general size onto the pan.

Somewhere during the process something shifts, again, and Alexa exhales, deeply, like someone surfacing after spending too long underwater. Mickie offers a glance but keeps her focus on the cookies before her, hand tight on her spoon as she drops more onto the sheet. Still, she jumps when arms curl around her, and Alexa's face buries between her shoulderblades. "Mickie," she whispers. "What's happening to me?"

Mickie immediately lets the spoon go and twists around to hug Alexa back. "I'm not sure, sweetie, but we'll figure it out," she promises, holding her tightly. "You just hold on, alright? Don't give up." She eases back from the desperate hug and touches Alexa's jaw, gently tipping her face up so they can look into each other's eyes, Mickie aching when she sees the tears in Alexa's eyes. "I'll get you out of there, I swear."

Alexa's smile is small, genuine, and it warms Mickie in ways nothing really has in months. "I love you, Mickie," she whispers.

"Love you too, Lexi, forever and ever." The moment isn't meant to last, Mickie knows that Bray's control will return at any time, but there are cookies to bake behind her, and the woman she loves standing before her once more, and for the first time in a long time, Mickie feels _content._


	7. Carmellsworth

Carmella isn't in a great mood. She was tense as soon as she came home, and she seems even angrier now, the bad vibes even more obvious to him while she's laying in bed next to James. He blinks into the darkness and breathes in and out softly, trying not to disturb her. The interview square off with Sasha hadn't gone all that well, only fueling her frustration, and James even had been thrown in her face, which always adds to her anger. "How dare she," she says suddenly, glaring up into the darkness, and he exhales slowly, glancing over at her.

"Mella?" he asks quietly, fingers tapping the mattress next to where her hand lays.

Carmella twists to lay on her side and _glowers_ at him. "How dare she say any of those things? And to bring _you_ into it? My God. The gall."

Her anger has always intimidated him, but for the most part, he can tell it's just protectiveness towards him. Like now. "Really, it's- it... I'm used to being insulted, you don't-"

She grips his face and forces him to look into her eyes. "No, no one gets to talk about you like that. Our time together, it meant something- to diminish it like just some..." Her words fail her and she shakes her head, biting her lip. "I hate when people do that. You were more than just some... lackey to me."

"Hey." He leans up and searches her face. "I know that, ok? You wouldn't be here, right now, if I wasn't." She's still unhappy so he reaches out and grips her hand. "Come on, let's..."

She sighs. "James, what-"

"Trust me?" A simple question, a weighted request between them after all this time, but she allows herself to be dragged out of bed and he leads her quietly into the kitchen where he quietly begins to fiddle with mugs and milk.

She huffs but settles in to watch him, chin propped up in her hand. He's always efficient in late night kitchen wanderings, probably after years of being on the road, and with two young daughters who sometimes have trouble sleeping. When he glances over and smiles at her, she doesn't react but feels a little of the tension leave her shoulders either way.

"Come on," he says once the microwave has beeped. He claims her hand once more and they walk into the living room where he nudges her towards the couch, putting the mugs down only long enough to turn on the Christmas tree, its lights flashing lazily as James settles in next to her, handing over her mug. With his free hand, he grips the blanket on the back of the couch and tucks it in around her.

She hovers over the mug, letting the warmth bleed up into her face, and tries not to roll her eyes at being coddled like this, especially when James wraps an arm around her and tucks her in close, giving her an excuse to fold her legs in and cuddle against him. They sit quietly and sip from their mugs, Carmella biting her lip as she examines the Christmas tree. He'd set it up a week ago, getting the boring parts out of the way so when she came home from Smackdown, and the girls were awake, they could all four set into decorating it with no delay. She smiles into her mug and looks over at him, watching how the lights flicker against his face, lighting up his eyes in a way that does funny things to her.

She sighs and reaches out, her hand curling around his jaw, and turns him towards her, gently kissing him. "Thank you," she whispers against his lips and he smiles into the kiss, squeezing her arm.

"My pleasure, Mella," he says softly, and she exhales, drinking a little more of her warm milk before settling her head on his shoulder and watching the tree for awhile longer. Feels him take the mug from her gently and set it down on the table to the left of the couch with a soft clink, careful not to dislodge her.

She blinks slowly and watches the lights grow blurry, and then disappear entirely as her eyes slip shut, sleep tugging lazily at her. "I love you, Jimmy," she whispers.

There's a warm pressure against her forehead, and he whispers back, "I love you too, Mella."

She falls asleep like that, warm and relaxed on the couch, held close to him, reminded all over again of just how lucky she really is.


	8. Mizorrison

Miz is having a good week so far. Yes, he had lost at Tribute to the Troops, yes, his recent cash in attempts had been less than stellar, but he, Morrison and AJ Styles had defeated Drew and Sheamus on Raw earlier, and that's always enough to put a smile on anyone's face.

Now he's sitting on the window ledge of their hotel room, peering out over the Florida skyline, mulling over every good and bad thing this year had brought him, the weight of the briefcase a nice constant against his hip as he stares up at what few stars are visible past the city lights.

The microwave beeps behind him and he barely stirs as John shuffles over to him, handing him a mug of hot cocoa. "Thanks, John," he murmurs, his best friend mirroring his position as he settles in across from Mike to gaze upon the city as well.

"You're welcome," he says, taking a sip from his mug. "Whatcha thinking about, Mike?" he wonders, nudging him with his foot when he doesn't respond after a few moments. "Everything good?"

Mike smiles, a little. "Yeah, everything's fine," he says. "Just... reflecting, I guess. On where I was last year about this time."

John's return to WWE had just been announced, giving Mike something to hold onto while Bray- Fiend- whatever tormented his family, targetted his daughter. His gaze shifts to rest on John's face, relaxed and happy as he stares up at the night sky overhead as well, and he thinks about how lucky he really is, to have this ridiculous man back by his side after so many years. To get to celebrate every win and bitch about every loss with the only person who has fully faced everything that Mike is- every obnoxious, self-serving, _loud_ aspect of his character- and never, ever took away his loyalty.

"Hey, John," he says, nudging him back with his foot. When their eyes meet, he smiles, soft and sincere. "Thanks a lot for everything, this past year. I don't think I'd have made it without you."

John looks pleasantly surprised and half waves it off even as his eyes gleam with pleasure. "Don't mention it, man. What're best friends for, after all?"

They grin at each other, content and relaxed as they turn their focus back to the world beyond their window, slowly finishing their hot cocoa in quiet peace.


	9. ZigZack

Dolph Ziggler blinks up into the darkness. Exhales slowly. Glances to his right, where Zack Ryder is fast asleep, his lips parted as he breathes in and out peacefully. Dolph shakes his head with a small smile and moves carefully, slowly, pulling the sheet away and slipping out of bed. Each step quiet on the tile floors, he makes his way slowly to the living room and stands there, too antsy and his brain moving too quickly to encourage sleep, so he settles down on the couch with a glass of water and flicks the tree on, watching the lights chase each other on this weird timer Zack had set up because he finds it funny to watch sometimes.

It's not been an easy year, for him, for Zack especially, for most of the people he knows, one way or another. He rubs his thumb against the cool plastic of his glass and lets his head drop back against the wall with a faint thud, watching the lights reflect off of ceiling. "Here's to a better 2021," he mumbles, raising his glass in a mock salute before taking a lengthy sip.

He's just starting to feel sleepy, his wayward thoughts finally running themselves dry, when he hears a faint shuffling noise from their bedroom and closes his eyes, a small smirk crossing his lips when Zack appears, dragging the comforter from their bed as he makes his way over to the couch, a cranky kind of pout on his face. "Bro, what're you doing?" he grouses, looking oddly young despite the beard and the ridiculous amount of muscles he's been sporting for the last couple of years now. "It's late and I'm _cold_."

Dolph waits patiently until Zack drops the comforter unceremoniously over him, immediately snuggling under it and burying his face into his shoulder, to speak. "It's Florida, kid," he says into Zack's hair. "I didn't expect you to freeze in the few minutes I've been gone." Despite his exasperated words, he wraps his arms around Zack and holds him close, kissing the top of his head.

"Hmph," Zack mumbles, still half-asleep and adorable as he blinks, the motion tickling Dolph's arm just a little. "I sleep better when you're next to me."

It's vulnerable and honest and hits somewhere deep in Dolph's chest as he hugs this ridiculous man close. "Sorry, I thought I'd disturb you more if I kept feeling as restless as I was."

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just overthinking, you know. It happens."

Zack hums. "Yeah." He drapes himself closer to Dolph and snuggles him tighter. "It's definitely the year for it."

"Yeah," Dolph echoes, reaching out to curl his fingers under Zack's jaw, urging him to look up so their eyes can meet. He smiles down at him and traces his face for a few moments before leaning in to kiss him, warm and soft and sweet, and Zack groans faintly. "You did a great job on the tree, by the way. I think I forgot to say it earlier."

They turn to look at the bright lights, and gaudy purple and pink ornaments scattered among the other, smaller ornaments- Star Wars and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and even a couple of Archer ornaments that Zack had gifted Dolph with over the years. "Thanks," he says with a small, pleased smile. "I think it looks pretty badass."

"It does," Dolph murmurs, blinking slowly as sleep slowly creeps up on him. Shaking his head to force himself to wake up, he gently pushes Zack into a sitting position before standing. "Come on, we're too damn old to sleep on the couch." Gripping his hand, he tugs him upright and just stands before him, examining him for a few moments, observing how the lights flash against his face, down his body, putting every carefully earned muscle in sharp relief. "You're beautiful, you know that, right?"

Zack laughs sheepishly and brushes a hand through his hair. "Bro-"

Dolph leans in to kiss him, lingering longer and deeper than earlier, and Zack gasps, gripping at his hips. Pulling away after a few moments is difficult, but Dolph manages, stooping quickly to turn the tree off before grabbing the comforter and wrapping it around Zack, tugging him closer. "You are. Always have been, always will be."

Zack's eyes are shining even in the sharp darkness that's taken over without the tree to illuminate the way, and Dolph smiles at him. "You-..." Zack shakes his head, breathing out slowly. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." He frees a hand from the comforter cocoon and traces Dolph's face wonderingly, staring into his eyes. "I don't want to imagine where I'd be without you right now."

Dolph shifts, pressing a kiss to Zack's palm, and watches him shiver. "Thankfully, you'll never have to," he says with all certainty, tightening his hold on the comforter and leading Zack back to bed with a small smirk.


	10. Robbie-Z

Robert Stone wiggles his toes in his loafers with a frown, rolling his eyes skyward as he slouches back and waits. "Joaquin!" he finally calls out, impatient. "What's taking so long?"

"I... I just..." Joaquin huffs from the other room. "You swear this is all you want for Christmas? Seriously, man?"

"Yes," he says, snapping his fingers as if to summon his significant other to his side. "Come on, it can't be _that_ bad."

Joaquin sighs. "I could buy you absolutely anything, Santos is really generous with pay, but-"

"Joaquin. Come on," Robert sighs. "It's not- If you hate it that much, I'm the only one that has to see it. Seriously. I just _want_ to see it, that's the whole point of this."

Joaquin pokes his head into the room finally, brows furrowed. "It's not that I hate it, it's just- I..." Robert glares at him until he hangs his head. "Fine. I'm coming." He finally shuffles into the room fully and Robert's entire face lights up.

Instead of his deejay gear that sometimes works as wrestling gear, or the suits that Santos Escobar insists he wear to work with himself and Mendoza, Joaquin Wilde is standing before Robert Stone, wearing Robert's latest merch shirt, his socks, and the brand new mock up of Robert Stone Brand sweatpants Robert is mulling over pushing WWEshop to add to their list of things for sale.

"Damn," Robert exhales, eyes roving over Joaquin plastered in his name, his face, his _branding_. It's a pleasant, possessive warmth that spreads through him and Joaquin shifts anxiously on his feet.

"I... uh. Do I look ridiculous?" he finally mumbles. "I kinda... I kinda _feel..._ "

Robert stands and walks up to him, spreading his hand over the shirt, down the sleeve, tugs lightly at it to ease some creases in the fabric, before looking up into Joaquin's uncertain eyes. "You look so hot," he mutters, lips twitching into a smirk when Joaquin blinks in surprise.

"I do?"

"Hell yeah," Robert says. Leans closer so his lips are close to Joaquin's ear. "Maybe some day soon I'll have to return the favor and dress head to toe in your merch so you can experience how this feels." Joaquin shivers a little and Robert grins, shifting to press a kiss to his lips. "This is already an amazing Christmas. Thank you."

"Oh, any time," Joaquin whispers, adorably flustered, a faint blush darkening his face as Robert presses another lingering kiss to his lips.


	11. Slarrett

Heath Slater sighs, leaning his head back against the couch, humming under his breath as songs shift, one Christmas melody switching into the next on the playlist. He smiles into the crook of his elbow as he listens to the cats wandering around, batting at ornaments and whatever else is scattered around on the floor. He had tried to help, really he had, but his abs and... that entire general area was still sore, so Wade Barrett had only tolerated it for a brief couple of minutes before gripping him by the shoulders and lightly pushing him onto the couch. He blinks into the darkness as he remembers the command behind Wade's gruff, _Stay_ , order and peeks out at his significant other with a smirk. "Hey," he calls out. "Brit."

"Yes?" he asks, his patience clearly hanging on by a thread as he looks up from where he's sitting, tangled up in garland. "What is it, Heath?"

Heath pouts a little at the lack of their standard back and forth with nicknames before shrugging it off. "You can give me that, I'll untangle it."

Wade considers, looking up at him with his brows furrowed. "Huh. I suppose I could," he says quietly. "There's one problem."

"And what's that?" Heath prepares to argue his case that he can easily do such an easy task sitting down without aggravating his injuries further, when Wade stands up and Heath realizes it wasn't just an exaggeration to say he was tangled up, the bright, shiny red and green garland is clinging determinedly to his sweater, draped under his arms, circling his neck, and...

Heath bursts out laughing as Wade glowers. "I can't reach it," he grouses, trying futilely again to grip where the garland had bunched up right between his shoulderblades, twisting together something horrible.

"How did you-?" Heath demands, laughing even more as he motions Wade over to get a better look.

Wade ends up having to kneel in front of the couch just so Heath can reach, and Heath chuckles, running his fingers over the twist in the garland. "I don't know," he huffs, face flushing in a disorienting mix of mortification at Heath's humor at his plight, and both his warm breath rushing against Wade's neck and how his fingers feel whenever they brush against his bare skin.

Heath finally finds the issue and smooths it out, coiling the garland around his other arm while taking advantage of this to touch Wade, hand creeping down his neck to rest high on his shoulder. "You're free now," he murmurs, and Wade nods, not seeming too eager to move, break their connection.

"Thank you," he says softly, turning to look at Heath in the soft light. "I'm glad you're going to be ok," he finally says after a long moment of their staring at each other.

"Me too," Heath says, fingers now trailing over his lips, shivers rolling down his spine each time Wade lightly kisses them. "It kinda scared me. Gettin' injured so suddenly, and without knowing for sure-."

Wade nods, eyes dark and resolute. "Me too," he sighs, and Heath grimaces at him before tangling his fingers in the neck of his sweater, drawing him in with little protest.

"But I'm gonna be fine, and I have a contract now, and you're happy in NXT. It's all uphill from here now, baby."

Wade's tense look shifts, little by little, as Heath kisses him, slow and gentle, but definitely not lacking the usual slow-building heat that's always resided between them since their Corre days. "I think you're right, ginger."

Heath grins, sharp and thrilled at the resumption of his nickname as he slowly pulls back and presses his forehead to Wade's. "I always am, Brit."

Wade huffs but doesn't argue against it, simply tilting his face and going in for another kiss as the garland drops out of Heath's hands and lay at Wade's knees, entirely forgotten. Until later when they'll inevitably find it tangled in ways that seem impossible once more. But for now, neither man care about such things.


	12. Elias/Jeff

Elias has distanced himself from the rest of the roster even more so after his electrocution. Ordinarily, this would be fine, everyone just a little worn out of listening to songs from Universal Truth played on repeat for so long by now, but it's the _holidays_ and even though Jeff Hardy _knows_ he had nothing to do with Elias' hit and run all of those months ago, the origin of the man's anger towards everything, there's something that twists in his gut anyway when he's walking through the halls and hears one, lonely guitar playing somewhere in the shadows.

He rolls his eyes skyward, squares his shoulders, and follows it until he finds Elias settled in a corner, all of his focus on his music. He looks... happy, a soft smile playing around lips that Jeff's only seen scowling or tense in pain for months by now. _This_ is a much better look on him, reminds Jeff of months spent over the summer, watching him recover bit by bit, supporting him, starting to feel close to him... just for Elias to surprise him by returning to WWE and immediately setting his sights on him. Everything before, apparently, had been designed to hurt Jeff the most when the time came, and he exhales slowly, his chest feeling tight as he gazes upon the man.

Elias is still either lost in his own world or outright ignoring Jeff, and Jeff rolls his eyes slowly, walking up to him and kicking his boot sharply. The way Elias jumps and looks up in shock, Jeff realizes he really had gotten that lost in the music and almost feels bad until the shields drop back into place and Elias' eyes harden, his lips thinning. "What do you want, Hardy?" he demands. "Don't you want to go have some bronuts with your new little friend?"

"No," Jeff says with a huff, amazed that, after everything, Elias has the audacity to sound almost jealous. "Been paying attention to what I'm doing still, huh? I guess even getting electrocuted can't change _everything._ " Elias scowls at him and Jeff smirks. "I see _your_ new friend isn't around."

Elias lifts a shoulder in response and Jeff stands, waiting for something else- a comment, a facial response, anything. It doesn't take long before Elias twists to look back up at him. "What?! Why are you still _here?_ "

Jeff takes a deep breath, knowing that it's now or never. "No one should be alone on Christmas," he blurts out and Elias freezes, his frown intensifying even as his brows lift high on his forehead. "Especially you." Ok, that wasn't... exactly what he was planning to say. "Come on. Come with me, we don't need to spend any time together-" _I miss you,_ Jeff thinks even as the words slip from his lips, remembering the numerous times over the summer, watching as Elias rehabbed, and afterwards, laughter and small bits of conversation that slowly grew into passionate discussions about music and just life in general. He _misses_ all of it the longer he stands here looking into Elias' emotionless eyes. "Come on."

It's clear Elias is considering it, his eyes twisting from his guitar to Jeff, and... at some point, he reaches up and grasps Jeff's proffered hand, dragging himself up from the corner, careful with his guitar as he sets it down in its case. "Fine," he says, looking unimpressed as he faces Jeff head on. "Let's get this over with then."

He sounds as thrilled as one would be having to go to the dentist, but still. Jeff is thrilled just to be walking side by side with him closer to where they can hear Christmas music. Glancing over, he finds a small smile playing under Elias' mess of a beard and even if it disappears too quickly for Jeff to catalogue it to memory, he thinks the man is happier than he'd ever dare to let on right now too.


	13. Tamina/Lana

Things haven't been smooth this year. First, Lana's... second divorce, something that makes Tamina roll her eyes every time she thinks about it, then Rusev and Aiden English getting fired on the same day, which _had_ affected Lana, whether she'd want to admit it or not. And... well, _everything_ with Nia Jax. Tamina had tried talking to her cousin, had even paid her a couple of visits, but the woman was stubborn and wouldn't listen to anyone. Even when Tamina had tried to take the fun out of it by getting ahold of Lana herself and taking care to _carefully_ try to extract the woman from a situation during the battle royal they were all in, Nia had waited until Tamina's back was turned to send her through a table anyway.

Yeah, the holidays weren't going to be a lot of fun this year. So, here Tamina is, waiting for the oven timer to go off while she watches haupia set, trying to ignore the smells as her stomach rumbles warningly. She'd barely stopped to whip together a quick sandwich while working on this, and now she's paying for it. But she knows it'll be worth it as she gingerly takes the pan out of the oven and turns to set the vanilla cake onto the counter across from her. So far, everything was coming together nicely, but she only has so much time before Raw ends and Lana will return, sore and somewhere between pleased and sad because she's had some success lately, but also. _Why does your cousin_ hate _me so much?_

Which Tamina isn't sure why, either, but she's caring less and less for Nia's excuses and reasonings as time goes by. She is well aware of Tamina's relationship with Lana, how it's spread for years, and through hardships, and they always come out the other side, so... there's really no excuse. She suspects, sometimes, it's partly because of those months when Lana had been _married_ to Lashley and Tamina had been stuck watching Lana go through all of this ridiculous drama from afar, but they'd worked it out, things had returned to normal early in the new year, and ... well, if Tamina could put it behind her, she'd have assumed her family would just fall in line eventually. Apparently she was wrong.

Shaking her head to get these thoughts to stop dominating her mind for awhile, she looks at the clock once more and then tenses, scrambling to finish up what she can. The haupia definitely is set, she breathes in deeply once she's sure everything will be ready in time, setting it aside to wait until she hears Lana arrive to do more with. For now, she ventures into the living room and looks over the small picnic she'd set up in the middle of the room, at the foot of the huge tree she'd set up with Lana by her side in oversized pajamas giggling and eyes bright as she took in the massive size of the thing. It had been a pain, but absolutely worth it to see how her face lights up every time she looks at their handiwork.

Sighing, Tamina settles in on the couch to wait, which doesn't take too long until she hears Lana's car pull up, and keys in the front door. Standing, she tucks her hands behind her back and looks her outfit over once more- the apron had done its job, thankfully, and her pale brown dress with bright green holly and red berries sprawling over it still looks pristine. She exhales slowly, eyes lifting to rest on Lana's face just as she walks in and takes it all in with wide eyes and a slow blush spreading over her cheeks. "Tamina," she breathes in. "What's all of this?"

Tamina smiles weakly and scratches at the back of her head. "Well, I know things have been hard this year, especially for you." She fumbles for a minute. Finally walks over, and takes Lana's hand from where it's hovering helplessly midair. "I thought I'd do something nice for you tonight."

Lana exhales shakily and looks up at her with a small smile. "A picnic under our Christmas tree? I love it."

Tamina smiles back and grips her gently around the waist, guiding her into the kitchen so she can see. It takes a moment but things click into place as she sees and smells everything. "You made haupia?!" She stares for a moment at the cake before twisting around to throw her arms around Tamina. "I love it," she whispers into the other woman's shoulder and Tamina smiles.

"Come here." Once more sliding her fingers into Lana's, she guides her into the living room, and Lana frowns, glancing back at the cake, but Tamina ignores this for a moment, leading Lana over to settle down on the floor under the tree, where she can properly take in the lights and the ornaments and everything else. She's so distracted by it all that she barely notices as Tamina eases her coat off, and it takes her by surprise when Tamina touches her, hands warm and slick with softly scented massaging oil. "Oh," she gasps, trying to turn to look but Tamina holds her in place with a tsking noise and Lana quickly gives in to the brisk but gentle rubbing of Tamina's hands- before she starts to work up to really digging in, and Lana groans deep in her throat as her shoulders slump and her head dips forward, the pain ratcheting up before slowly, agonizingly drifting away. "Mmmmph," she sighs out, breathing shakily as Tamina's fingers trail lower, then ease back up, taking the last of Lana's stress and soreness with them.

"Good?" she whispers and Lana trembles at the sound of her voice so close to her ear, how her breaths feel against her skin.

"Yeah," she murmurs, unable to figure out any more indepth descriptions for everything right now, her brain absolute mush under Tamina's ministrations. "Really good."

Tamina chuckles softly, then slowly eases away- Lana lets out a protesting noise, and Tamina pauses, leaning back in to tip her face up with still glistening fingers. "I'll be back in a minute. You would like some cake soon, wouldn't you?"

God, a massage that Lana thinks she's still feeling all the way into her toes, and now some cake. She nods, eyes fluttering, and Tamina leans in and kisses her then, soft and slow and hot, and Lana moans into her mouth, Tamina humming back. The loss is even worse when Tamina pulls away this time, but Lana forces herself to just sit and relax, listening as Tamina wanders from sink to wash her hands, then from stove to cupboards, then back towards the living room. She inhales the soft scents- vanilla and coconut- but can't find the energy to open her eyes or verbally observe Tamina's presence.

Until a forkful of soft, vanilla cake is pressed against her lips and Lana automatically parts her lips for it, sighing as the first burst of it melts against her tongue. "Oh God," she moans, her eyes fluttering open then to gaze upon Tamina, face pleasantly flushed under the gleaming lights of their Christmas tree, sitting across from her on the blanket she'd set up for this moment, slicing into the cake with her fork once more. Their eyes meet and Lana smiles. "I love you," she breathes out. Not the first time, but absolutely something she thinks she needs to say more.

Tamina sits for a moment, still staring at Lana with wide, dark brown eyes, and then whispers back, "I love you too."

Lana smiles. Thinks this is even further proof that 2021 is going to be monumentally better than the year prior. After all, she has a beautiful woman feeding her cake and giving her massages, and there's a chance she may be women's tag champions with Asuka in a matter of days. It makes everything else feel like a distant memory, the weight of it all off of her shoulders, even for just this night.


	14. McStyles

The one thing that always throws AJ Styles is how grandiose Shane McMahon's apartment building is. Grandiose and _boring._ He grimaces at all of the bland, silver decorations, the muted colors of the white lights on the tree that greets him in the foyer, how even the greens and reds of the few things he sees when he looks around at the front desk seem lifeless. _You'd think,_ he tells himself, fighting to keep his disdain off of his face as he scribbles his signature in the guest book, _rich people like this would at least_ try.

But they don't. Hell, he's still an intruder on their lifeless, colorless existence, and it's wild to him whenever he runs into a neighbor of Shane's, the looks they give him standing there in bright plaid flannel and well-worn jeans, other times, crisp, bright suits that still seem to lighten up the area. How Shane, with all of his energy and zest for life, has managed to survive here for so long, AJ isn't sure.

Either way, Shane's apartment definitely is not boring. He had maybe fallen a bit into the bland sort of celebrations this building would inspire in its residents but AJ had worked him out of it over the last couple of years, bringing more and more cheerful, lovely decorations for him until Shane had figured it out and began buying his own. Now, bright reds and blues, greens and yellows, mix in with the traditional silvers and golds, and AJ grins when he pushes Shane's door open and the warm colors immediately wash over his face. He can smell cinnamon in the air, crisp and tart, and hums appreciatively as he sets down the bright red poinsettia he'd bought, following the smells into the kitchen where he finds Shane leaning against the counter, sipping from a mug of hot cocoa and staring at the oven.

Sidling up to him, AJ loops a lazy arm around his waist and kisses his neck. "Somethin' interesting in there?" he teases lightly and Shane immediately puts his mug down and turns to face his significant other, draping his arms loosely over his shoulders.

"Not anymore," he says with a grin, leaning in to kiss AJ. What starts off slow and sweet turns heated within moments, AJ exhaling soft little moans as Shane presses him into the counter and grips its smooth edge with both hands whiteknuckling it.

"Shane," he breathes, losing his track of thought as Shane hums, lips moving distractingly down his throat, towards the gap in his shirt. "Shane, I bought a poinsettia plant."

"I like those," Shane says against AJ's flesh, and AJ shudders.

"Yeah, I- I know ya do, I do too, thought it'd liven up the place a bit, ya know-"

Shane eases back up until they're eye to eye, offering AJ a mischievous grin that shouldn't look so attractive on a guy his age, but it does, dammit, it so does. "You didn't really need to bring more things to do so, but I appreciate it anyway."

AJ's mind is still muddled, and he only barely grasps that Shane probably means _he_ livens the place up more than anything else, but before his brain can process and begin to work out a response that isn't too pathetic sounding, the oven goes off.

"Hold that thought," Shane says apologetically and pulls away, leaning AJ struggling to function once more against the counter. "I thought apple tarts would be fun," he calls over his shoulder. "I didn't feel up to making pies and thought these might be easier." He pauses. "I was wrong. But," he laughs anyway, "they look really good." He sets them aside to cool and then returns to AJ's side, not moving quickly, nor returning to pinning him against the counter, despite how much part of AJ wishes he would.

They stand side by side, smiling at each other, and Shane reaches over to gently brush some of the hair in his eye aside, tucking it behind his ear when it keeps getting in his eyes. "I'm glad you're here," Shane says. "Place always feels lonely without you."

That fits, because AJ always feels oddly untethered whenever Shane isn't around. "I'm glad I am too," he murmurs. Staring at Shane is still too intense sometimes, even after all of these years, so he turns his focus to the oven. "How long will they need to cool?"

"Maybe about an hour," Shane hedges. "Somewhere between half an hour to a full one." AJ nods blankly, staring once more into Shane's calm, beautiful grey eyes. "I'm sure we can find a way to preoccupy ourselves though." His smile is straight fire, warms its way through AJ's veins, and leaves him heady and nodding desperately.

"Ye- yeah," he exhales, body still a little tingly from earlier. When Shane takes his hand and guides him through the penthouse, the two of them stopping to examine the poinsettia plant, Shane's face softens and he strokes one of the delicate red leaves before guiding AJ deeper into the apartment, towards the bedroom.

All thoughts of judgmental neighbors and horrible Christmas decorations are immediately forgotten, his focus narrowing to how Shane's hand feels in his and the beautiful gleam in his eyes when he gets to kiss AJ again.


	15. Dalton/Boys

The weather on Dalton Castle's island is always pleasant, which is not a bad thing. He's absolutely not complaining- they're wrestlers, they get beat down and thrown around so much, cold weather only succeeds in leaving them stiff and sore, so the warmth on their skin almost year around is _nice_. But sometimes, Christmas is on the horizon and even Dalton craves a little fun in the snow, so he researches whenever the Boys aren't looking- which isn't often, his Boys are the most attentive, inquisitive creatures in the world, and he adores them all the more for it.

So it usually happens when they're at OVW tapings, Dalton poring over websites for tourists, and other weather reports, and finally he finds the perfect spot. His eyes brighten, then soften into a happy little gleam as he reaches over for his cell phone. "Hello? Yes, I would like to rent a cabin for a week... mm hmm... yes, that- that sounds incredible..."

His Boys, sweet, helpful little things that they are, hear _vacation_ and are immediately running to get his bags, to pack for him. He laughs softly, though, and stops them, a hand on each of their arms as he glances from one to the other. "Brent, Brandon," he says softly, and they stop immediately, staring at him.

"Yeah, Dalton?" Brent finally asks and Dalton reaches up, grazes his thumb over his lips before leaning in to kiss him.

He sways into the affection and Dalton sighs softly, resting his forehead against him before pulling back, glancing at Brandon, who is staring at them with need deep in his eyes, and Dalton tilts over to kiss him in much the same way, smiling when Brandon exhales a slow, needy whimper into his mouth. "We all three need to pack," he finally declares. "Because the vacation is for all of us." He smiles at the look of awe in the Boys' faces and tucks them in close on either side of him, thinking about them both bundled up in large coats, gloves and hats against the winter chill, and everything that will bring. Snowball fights, hot chocolate by the fireplace, lazy evenings spent in bed, warm and sated.

The Boys never protest, just lean into him for as long as they can, before he sends them rushing off to get their bags and begin work. Which leaves him to do the same. He hates packing, but for this, he will make an exception. He smiles and shakes his head. _The things I do for those Boys. I swear, Dalton Castle, you weren't always this_ soft.

-x

The cabin is beautiful. Coated in a gentle amount of snow, just enough for their boots to crunch as they walk over what's on the ground, and Dalton breathes in and out slowly, enjoying watching his breath mist before his face. They stand in the doorway, shivering a little as he unlocks the door, and the carefully maintained beautiful of the outside meets the cheerful, homey interior that greets them as they peer in.

"Wow," Brent whispers, the Boys immediately slipping inside to look around. "It... it's amazing, Dalton."

Dalton beams and follows them in. "Come on, my sweet Boys. Let's put our bags in the bedroom and get some food, I'm starving." The kitchen is freshly stocked and, once their things are safely in the closet, Dalton leads them in whipping up some quick spaghetti and garlic bread, the Boys cheerfully humming some Christmas music while Dalton leans back and watches them, waiting for the noodles to soften. There is snow glistening behind him on the windowsill, and his Boys lighting up every aspect of the cabin, and... God, he's happier than he's ever felt.

"I love you both," he says suddenly, eyebrows twitching upwards as both Boy stops what they're doing and turns to look at him. "I know I don't say it often, but it... it's true with every fiber of my being. I'd be lost without you both."

Brent looks calm, beatific. Brandon is shaky, close to tears, his eyes shining in this gorgeous way that reflects the light overhead in this really heady, overwhelming sort of way. Within one breath and the next, both Boys are clinging to him, kissing him and stroking his back, his cheek, touches gentle and almost reverent. "We love you too," they whisper against his skin in unison and Dalton sighs as his knees grow weak, only the counter his elbows are propped on keeping him upright.

"My sweet boys," he says with a brilliant, bright smile on his face. He kisses both of them slowly, gently, and then lightly pushes them forward to finish working on the long abandoned food.

_This is going to be the best Christmas ever._


	16. Black Velvet

It's quiet. Almost unbearably so. Neither have been wrestling for awhile now, and the anxiety and the _yearning_ for it all leads them here, sometimes, when neither can sleep. Kickboxing isn't Velveteen Black's first choice for stress relief, but there's always a gleam in Aleister Black's eye as he watches him maneuver around the various instruments in this pseudo gym that takes up a room in Dream's home now. He glides, and he attacks with confidence, and it reminds Aleister time and again why they're here, why he's always been intrigued by the man who always seems so difficult to contain, to figure out.

Dream breathes in and out slowly and Aleister looks over at him. They're staring impassively at the tall bag that they've been taking turns kicking for months now and he clears his throat. "Your turn or mine?" he asks and Dream blinks slowly, glancing at him just long enough to catch his eye.

"Think it was yours," he says smoothly, waving him on with an impatient hand.

Aleister makes a faint huffing sound before slinking forward with the grace and precision of a cat about to leap on unsuspecting prey and Dream holds his breath until that first kick lands, rattling the bag. Again, and again, and again- Aleister's face twists up in anger as he gives in to his base nature, each strike landing almost perfectly, and _god_ , it is something feral to watch him, all of these smooth, simple movements that end up _so_ impactful. Dream wonders, as another hard shudder rattles through the bag from Aleister's legs, how long it'll be until they need to replace this thing.

After another few minutes, Aleister pauses, grips the towel Dream holds out to him and wipes his face down. "Your turn," he says, voice raspy and a little twitchy, as if he's still coming back to himself from that focused, intense high.

Dream merely hums in response before taking his space. His kicks aren't as well-timed or as fluid, but they make up for what they lack with the pure power and rage behind them. When he is focused, when he's not letting his emotions get the best of him, he's a pretty diligent fighter. Unfortunately, he's also a very visceral man, regularly ruled by his anger and his disgust and petty issues that Aleister bears but rolls his eyes through too often to count. Today happens to be a focused day, and it goes well, his kicks dig into the bag almost as much as Aleister's did, and he breathes evenly and deep until he's done, sweat pooling along the panes of his chest, dripping down his throat. He stands still for a few moments before casting a glance over at Aleister, who seems content to sit on the floor and watch him, legs crossed as simply as breathing. "Are you done?" he asks when nothing happens and Aleister snorts.

"I suppose I am. Come here."

Dream rankles at being commanded, but it is Aleister, so he allows it, sometimes. Walking over to him, he stands at his side and looks out of the window, watching as Florida's idea of winter ticks by, warmth leeching into the room through the glass. He sighs and thinks about wintertime as a child, with snow taller than he was and coats that sometimes could never feel warm enough no matter what he did, and-

His thoughts are derailed when Aleister takes his hand between his own and strokes, watching him with careful, grey eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Dream finally sighs, sitting down next to him. "Just remembering my childhood, I guess."

Aleister nods, with a small, vague smile, and Dream wonders what he's remembering, when he nudges him. "Patrick." There's a vague insistence in his tone and Dream truly has no idea what he's looking at him like that for, but then his smile turns softer, his eyes flickering overhead, and Dream instinctively follows them, up- up- ...

"Oh," he whispers, spotting it. "Is that...?" He stands, dragging Aleister with him, and they examine the small, purple plant hanging overhead. "Purple mistletoe?"

"Purple mistletoe," Aleister confirms with a smile. "Cat friendly, but I suppose it'll do for traditional pur-" His words die away as Dream takes advantage of their hands still wrapped together, tugs him close and examines his face for a long, quiet moment, before leaning in and pressing a soft, slow, sweet kiss to his lips.

They've been together for long enough, through the ups and downs of a standard wrestling career- back injuries, and leg issues, title wins and devastating losses, not to mention just day to day minutiae- that this is nothing new, tender kisses around holidays reaffirming themselves, and sometimes desperate handholding in the dark to keep one or both of them tethered to this reality they find themselves in. So kisses, Aleister thinks, are something to be expected, nothing really special, but the damned thing is they _are,_ Dream always treating them like something mystical, his fingers curling around Aleister's face, drifting over his facial hair, stroking his jaw line, over his cheek bones. He always takes his time, as if relearning Aleister's lips every time, and Aleister often aches for more when he slowly slips away.

But he doesn't do that tonight, something about the traditional flower hanging over them in his signature color leaves him pressed into Aleister for far longer than expected, his eyes fluttering softly as he presses his significant other closer, hands warm and possessive against Aleister's spine. "Dream," he sighs out, and Dream deepens the kiss, his touch shifting, warming every inch of Aleister as he glides around, claiming every inch of Aleister that he comes in contact with. He tastes like chocolate and cream, and Aleister chases the warmth with a hunger he's never really felt before _"Enjoy infamy, Velveteen Dream"_ slipped from his lips all of those years ago.

If infamy resides here, in their quiet mock-up gym, lost between the pleasant tangle of their hands, drifting between the languid press of their lips, Aleister thinks it almost suitable that, after all of this, that one line shapes and defines them over and over again, and will more than likely continue to do so for decades to come. "Merry Christmas, Velveteen Dream," he says in a timbre so similar to the words he'd spoken to him all of those years ago.

This time, however, Dream responds, a slow smirk crossing his face. "Same to you, Aleister Black." They examine each other for only a brief moment before the lure of the mistletoe overhead calls to them once more and they pick up where they'd left off.


	17. Angelico/Ivelisse/Son of Havoc

It's interesting, after everything they went through back in the temple, to be working with Angelico again. Yeah, true, Ivelisse is in the women's division and he's in the tag division with Jack Evans, which still feels wrong to her, but they're in the same company, existing in the same building, she sees him in catering and sometimes they stop and talk, or maybe even slip into the shadows for a little time alone. It's nice, and that's a word she doesn't use often.

It's nicer still when they get to leave, meeting up in the parking lot by their bikes like they're back in California, that usual smug little smirk on his face causing her lips to tilt up into a sneer. She is as annoyed by him as she is affectionate of him, and it's always been an interesting give-take dynamic between them, her temper and his cocky attitude always leaving them on the brink of imploding.

Thankfully, it's not just the two of them, and when Son of Havoc meets up with them, sometimes in the parking lot, sometimes on the road, and sometimes not until they're at home, all fight leeches out of them and they feel _whole_ again, the three of them orbiting around each other. She exhales slowly as soon as she sees his wild beard, that damned mask he still insists on wearing sometimes, the intensity of his eyes resting on her face, before gliding over towards Angelico's. It's Christmas, she's in Florida with two of the most important men in her life, she has _work_ to do again, and all in all, life is pretty sweet.

More so when they park their bikes outside of the apartment complex they've been calling their own for the last few months and go inside, Ivelisse's breath always hitching in her throat for a second whenever she sees the tree that the three of them had spent hours working on a couple weeks back, a calm silence only broken by faint strains of the Christmas music Havoc eventually turned on, ignoring her impatient huff and continuing to twist garland around the massive branches. Angelico had begun humming, and she'd found herself swaying to the music eventually, and- yeah. It was, it was really, really good.

But she's holding up the doorway to the apartment and Angelico lightly nudges her. "Hey, you alright?" he asks once she shakes her head and moves forward, making room to let them in.

"Yeah," she says, voice quiet and almost reverent as she looks once more at the tree. "I'm good." She can imagine he and Havoc behind her, exchanging glances, wordlessly pulling off jackets and hats and whatever else, before pressing closer to her. Sometimes it's iffy, trying to get close to her, she's prickly and prefers her space, but right now, it's- it takes some of the chill away, her two men leaning into her and she allows it, glancing left to right, before shaking her head with a faint, exasperated groan, and grips Angelico, dragging him in for a slow, deep kiss that leaves him frozen for a second before he begins to reciprocate needily.

Havoc looks like he's expecting it when she tugs him in by the corner of his mask, a vague smile on his face when she claims his lips, and that's just been how her and Havoc _have been_ and probably always _will be_ since they first met long before Lucha Underground. If Angelico kisses hungrily, desperately, Havoc kisses slow and deep, like he's trying to figure her out through her mouth, and something about both vastly different styles of kisses leaves her lightheaded and yearning, although she rarely shows it.

As it stands, she has two ridiculously patient guys who never have been run off by her anger or her pettiness, and she has this apartment, and she has this damned Christmas tree, and the beginning steps of her time in AEW, and... yeah. For the first time in a long time, she thinks she's going to be ok. Tugs Angelico back closer so she's once more surrounded by their steady warmth, and exhales. "Merry Christmas, boys."


	18. Shinsuke/Okada

This year has not gone at all the way Shinsuke Nakamura had planned. Yes, there were good moments- tag title win, and some interesting matches that had left hs skin buzzing under his gear, but surfing had been so limited this year, and almost no travel. He exhales, yearning for Japan in a way that he hasn't in years previous. Whispers from home are concerning as well, Kazuchika's year almost as shaky- further betrayals, attacks from those he thought of as friends, perhaps even a little brother, and Shinsuke worries for him. As if this year isn't isolating enough as it is.

He's still mulling these things over when his phone chimes. He blinks, long and hard, and reaches over for it, skimming the message there before smiling. _In a moment, yes,_ he texts back and sits there, calm and serene, until the device chimes again. This time, when he looks, there's a invitation that he accepts. It takes a moment for the device to load the app, but when he does, he gets a sharp flash of blond hair and grins when Okada slowly pulls back the phone and peers at the screen. "Ah! Moshi moshi!" Shinsuke chirps, his lips twitching as Okada beams back.

"Moshi moshi," he says with a soft giggle that warms Shinsuke up from the inside out. "Sorry it is late, time zones, I just returned from walking outside, and..." His eyes skip away for a moment before returning to the screen, to tracing Shinsuke's face. "I wanted to talk to you."

"No worries," Shinsuke says, relieved that Okada is still trying with English to help him. Sometimes he thinks he's doing better grasping the exasperating language, and other times he feels like he's freefalling and no one will ever understand a full sentence coming out of his mouth again, between still struggling with the vast differences in sentence stucture and his accent. "How are you?"

"Fine," Okada says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "How are you?" He looks anxious for a moment and Shinsuke understands. All too well, he does.

"Doing fine as well," he says, trying to ease the lingering uncertainty in Kazuchika's deep, dark gaze. "We are getting through this."

Some angst clears, and Okada grins, teeth flashing. "That's good," he says softly. "I'm glad." They sit there quietly for awhile and then Okada breathes out something Shinsuke can't quite catch before surging forward, "I wish I could be quarantined with you."

It's the most that they've had these last few years, a quiet yearning, slow sort of missing of each other that sometimes gets verbalized, but most times doesn't. Shinsuke closes his eyes and imagines how different the last few months might feel with Okada holed up with him, and smiles tentatively. "I wish for that too," he confesses and Okada exhales out a small laugh.

"It seems we always say so on Christmas, hm? As if it is our holiday wish."

Shinsuke nods. It is. They do. But the time isn't right. "Someday," he says softly. Someday he will tire of WWE's ways, he will miss home more than he enjoys the adventure, will return to Japan's customs and its ways, people stacked on top of people, he will decide between a retirement tour with NJPW, or he will easily settle into training new people at the dojo, and he and Okada will finally be face to face once more. And things will settle into calm, peaceful, happiness. But not today. Not this year, or probably next.

"Someday," Okada says with a small, sad smile that lingers in the back of Shinsuke's mind for the rest of the year.

"Meri Kurisumasu, Kazuchika," Shinsuke says softly, reveling in how even that little bit of Japanese makes Okada's face light up.

"Meri Kurisumasu, Shinsuke," he echoes and the two of them sit there, smiling goofily at the other.

Shinsuke glances at the clock and grimaces, thumbing the screen a little, wishing he could actually touch Kazuchika right now. "I apologize," he says. "It is late here, I should go. We have taping tomorrow."

"Ah," Kazuchika says, a startled, sad little noise deep from his chest. "Right, of course." They linger for a few moments longer, looking at each other. "Good night, Shinsuke," he says quietly and Shinsuke smiles grimly.

"Good night, Kazuchika." The dark screen leaves him exhaling slowly and he shakes his head, gently laying the device down. He doesn't regret his decisions, but he still wishes he could be there for Okada this holiday, especially after everything he's been through this year, how lonely and dejected he still looks after Ospreay's betrayal.

Shinsuke breathes in deeply and looks outside at the neighboring Christmas decorations and smiles faintly. _Someday._


	19. Ariya/Gulak

Ariya Daivari sighs after another frustrating 205 Live taping that sees him and Nese retreating from the newer competitors just to keep some semblance of the upperhand. It sucks, he hates it so much, how far their stock has fallen since this new infusion of wrestlers from NXT started overwhelming them. He's still grumbling as he kicks his shoes off under the bed and flops down, arm covering his eyes. He thinks he'll either lay here and stew the rest of the night, or else just fall asleep, when there's a soft thudding sound of plastic on wood and he forces himself to look over, squinting at Drew Gulak as he settles in next to Ariya. "Hey," he mumbles.

"Hey," Drew responds with a faint smile. "Rough night?"

"Something like that." Ariya huffs and rolls onto his side, facing Drew. "What do you have there?" The light's too dim for him to make out what exactly Drew's laid down, and he grunts when Drew gently nudges at him. "Hey," he protests, comfortable where he's at, but his boyfriend keeps poking and urging him to roll over, and finally Ariya concedes, burying his face into his pillow. He's getting pissy, about to roll back over and demand answers, when a soft scent fills the air and he stills, sniffing curiously.

Drew's hands press suddenly warm and gentle against his back, but with just enough pressure to dig into the sore muscles and aching bones below, and Ariya groans. "Dr- Drew-"

"Shhh," he chides him. "Just lay there and enjoy."

Ariya definitely does that- the oil is peppermint, he realizes after a few moments, and it eases more of the tension out of his shoulders as he feels Drew's fingers dance up his back, along his sides, over his shoulderblades. "Oh," he groans when Drew finds an infamous, recurring spot deep between his shoulders and Drew chuckles softly, leaning in to press a soft, gentle kiss against his neck.

"Feeling good?" he asks quietly and Ariya moans in a way that he ordinarily wouldn't allow, Drew grinning as he kisses him again. "Sounds like that's a yes." He continues massaging, working the oil in deep while he eases the tight agony out of Ariya's muscles.

When he's done, Ariya's limp, gaping against the pillow, and Drew all but giggles at the glassy look in his eyes. "Oh my God," he mumbles. "I hate and love your fingers so much right now."

"Why do you hate them?" Drew asks, examining his fingers with a serious look on his face, before a grin slowly overwhelms everything.

"Because they stopped touching me," Ariya huffs, and Drew does giggle at this.

"Funny about that," Drew says, leaning in to whisper to him. "In just a few minutes, they'll probably be touching you again. You just might need to be a little patient first."

Ariya feels a pleasant warmth at this, gazing over to look Drew in the eye. "I love you," he says, smirking when Gulak is the one to blush now.

"Ah," he says, reaching over to graze his fingertips against Ariya's jaw. "You never did play fair." He leans in and kisses him slow and gentle, huffing out a laugh when Ariya keens lightly, still very malleable after his massage.

"Never could get what I wanted that way," Ariya says with a shrug.

Drew rolls his eyes and guides him onto his back with a steady hand that still smells like peppermint oil, and hovers over Ariya. "I love you too," he says a few inches from Ariya's lips, then kissing him.


	20. Kaz/Daniels

It's colder than expected when Frankie Kazarian steps outside, but he'd already agreed to this so he keeps his discomfort to himself and follows alongside Christopher Daniels with a small smile on his face. They're both in jackets, hands deep in their pockets, by the end of the driveway, and Kaz waits for Daniels to decide they should head back home... but it never comes. He seems perfectly happy to walk on in the dark and cold, examining the neighbors' light displays with a critical eye.

"That one's kinda cool," he says, stopping outside of a home with an entire yard full of inflatable Christmas characters- from Mickie and Minnie Mouse in Christmas hats, to The Grinch lurking around the corner, watching a group of inflatable Whos.

Kaz nods, wiggling his fingers around in his pocket for some friction, an attempt at finding some warmth. "It is," he agrees softly, and they move on. Once they finish with their own street, Daniels turns left and Frankie exhales quietly, following him. There are more decorated homes and yards in this street, and Daniels beams in the glow of it all, Frankie quickly losing the will to interrupt and demand they return home immediately.

They're heading down a fourth block when Daniels turns to ask Frankie something and pauses, his brows furrowing. "Frankie?"

Frankie blinks, hard, and then looks up, realizing he's stopped moving, a good few feet between them. "Oh," he says bashfully, jogging to catch up. "Sorry, guess my mind wandered."

Daniels makes a unconvinced noise before stepping closer to him, staring intently at him and touching his knuckles to the side of Kaz's face, then grabbing one of his hands out of his pocket. Whereas Kaz is close to _shivering_ as more wind buffets down upon them, bringing a fresh chill through Frankie's jacket, Daniels is still warm and cheerful and Kaz shakes his head helplessly, clinging to his fingers.

"Man, you should've told me you were cold," he chides. "Come on, let's double back."

"No, it's fine, I'm not cold, just a little chilly. We can continue," Frankie insisted, but Daniels shakes his head.

He tugs their hands up between them and squeezes them, showing him how pale his normally healthy looking fingers are in comparison. "We've seen plenty. Come on." He keeps ahold of Frankie's hand and pulls him along until Frankie gives up and keeps step alongside him.

Even then, Daniels doesn't let go of his hand and Frankie has to smile deep into the darkness as his best friend keeps him close, making him feel just a little bit warmer until they've walked back the entire way much faster than Kaz would've expected after how excruciatingly long the walk this far had been. Once back inside, Daniels bustles off, muttering something about warm apple cider, and Frankie sits in the glow of the Christmas tree to toe his shoes off, listening fondly to him moving around in the kitchen.

He thinks he'll never know for sure what he did right to gain this man's friendship for well longer than the last decade, but he's beyond thankful for it.


	21. Rusev Day

Aiden English sits outside of a room, head resting against the wall, listening to Rusev talk, and laugh, and sometimes yell at the video game he's playing. They both have their space, and their schedule, and know when to come in and see each other, and when not to bother the other. It's an interesting life they've eased into post-WWE, with Rusev making gaming more of a priority and Aiden still trying to find his footing in the wrestling world's indy scene, especially while trying to remain safe from the pandemic.

He closes his eyes, humming quietly to the music echoing from Rusev's room. Checks the time on his phone and exhales, aware that it's well past the time Rusev had said he'd be playing this evening. He's lost himself in games before too, too wrapped up and excited with the going ons in his chat to care about the real world, but it's Christmas week, and he's feeling a little maudlin with the end of the year inching ever closer, lost in his own head about everything that's happened this year. He's still sitting there, waiting, when he finally hears Rusev signing off for the evening, and he checks his watch. Waiting for half an hour had felt like an eternity and he slowly gets to his feet, stretching and stepping back, not wanting to seem too eager whenever Rusev finishes turning everything off.

He looks surprised when he finds Aiden standing there, reaching back to turn off the lights in the room. "What's up, Aiden?" he asks, turning with a small frown. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," he says with a faintly embarrassed laugh. "I... I guess I was just getting lonely out here by myself." He scrapes his hands over his head and shrugs. "Kind of creepy, huh?" Turning, he starts to trudge out of the hallway, eager for something to drink, maybe a chunk of the fudge they'd awkwardly made together the other day, tripping over each other in the small kitchen and laughing ridiculously every time they'd messed up. How, exactly, the two of them had ended up with serviceable dessert is still a mystery to Aiden, but it really was pretty good.

"No," Rusev says slowly, following him out. "I... It's kind of nice." He stands at the counter and watches, clearly waiting for Aiden to cut him some as well, which he does, laying matching pieces side by side on the same plate. After pouring glasses of milk, they just chew on them at the counter, eyeing each other quietly while Aiden waits for Rusev to clarify. "I miss you too," he confesses after a few minutes. "When you're at these indy events. Or when I'm in Florida." He picks at some of the chocolate clinging to his fingers and smiles wearily. "I suppose it reminds me a little too much of how suddenly Rusev Day fell apart."

Aiden's face falls, a little, and he exhales. "I'm really s-"

"You don't need to apologize again," Rusev interrupts him. "That's not what I'm- that... I don't need that from you, not again. It's... ancient history? Right? Just... how we went from spending so much time together when we were in Rusev Day to just all of a sudden none, reminds me of this. Being quarantined together for months, and then... then things begin to happen, and... now we're not together as much, so yes, Aiden, I understand. It's fine. Not creepy."

Aiden ducks his head, smiles a little bit. "I should've known you'd understand," he murmurs, and Rusev is grinning at him when he looks back up, even winks at him.

"Of course I do," he says, popping more fudge into his mouth. "Because I'm a genius. And you love me."

He smiles softly. "I really do." It's then, looking away to ease some of the heavy emotions leaving him breathless and heart pounding hard in his chest, that Aiden realizes _his_ fudge is gone as well, Rusev looking oddly pleased with himself, and his jaw drops. "HEY!"

Rusev's laugh is loud and boisterous and makes it all worth it.

"Jerk," he laughs with him, eyes unbearably fond as they look at each other.

"Come on," Rusev says, grabbing the knife and slicing some more fudge for both of them. "Let's go." Aiden doesn't ask, and it's not much of a surprise when Rusev grips his hand and drags him and the plate of fudge into the living room, tucking them both onto the couch, where they sit and eat fudge and talk quietly, the glow of the tree the only thing illuminating the room.

It's going to be a different sort of holiday than either are used to, but, Aiden thinks, looking up at Rusev and watching how the lights reflect off of his eyes, casting an almost ethereal glow over his skin, they're going to do what they always do, and make the best of it. And their best is always pretty damn good.


	22. Escobar/Mendoza

The past year, spent working for Santos Escobar, has been a revelation. Before, Raul Mendoza was fine fighting his way up the ranks in 205 Live, sometimes on NXT, but then Santos had made himself a part of Raul's existence, the day he'd snagged him out of the parking lot, looked him in the eye, and told him, simply, _I want you._ Joaquin had joined them a few weeks later, but it was that time he'd had alone with Santos that had reshaped him as a person, as a competitor, and he had helped do the same for Joaquin.

But there's still a pivotal moment, where Raul had first felt like he was _living_ when Santos had taken him by the arm and guided him into a fancy looking store, clucking under his breath about how people who work for him have to look the part, and not like some scared child. Which Raul thinks is exactly what he was- what Joaquin had been- before Santos had chosen them, saved them from their existence of loneliness and pain. Raul was an unknown and Joaquin had a name, but he was fighting just to survive after injury after injury after injury. The comfort of Santos' money and influence at both of their backs was a relief, a god send, almost.

So now Raul is here, sitting quietly in Santos' lounge, staring at the large Christmas tree dominating the room, waiting to be joined by his fellows. The bar is fully stocked, as it always is, and he can hear Santos shuffling around in the other room, staff bustling elsewhere. It's peaceful, calm, quiet. For the first time in a long time, he feels _happy._ It's the holidays, and Santos had invited he and Joaquin over for some Christmas celebrations, and it's just going to be the three of them, sitting around, talking, as they have done _so_ much over the last few months.

Then there's the part of Raul that wishes, for a brief, selfish moment, that it could just be he and Santos, but that is ridiculous. He had had Santos all to himself for months before Joaquin had joined them, there's no need to be so greedy with their leader's time right now. So he greets Joaquin with a smile and a brisk hug once the man arrives, looking calm and relaxed as he saunters in in a priceless suit, easy grin on his face. "Hey, what's a guy got to do to get some music going around here?" he asks teasingly and Santos, walking in behind him, waves a hand dismissively.

"If you want some, you know where to go, mi amigo," he says cheerfully and settles in across from Raul. Joaquin grins and moves to the impressive media system Santos had set up at his recommendation, fiddling around with settings and playlists before finding just the perfect one for Christmas- not too boring, but not too rambunctious either, keeping the volume low so they can just hear its vibes over what they're talking about.

 _No business,_ Santos had insisted. Raul mulls over that, the pensive, quiet look on his face as he'd informed them when he'd invited them over the other day. _We have had over almost a full year together, and it has been magical, but now I would like to get to know_ you _both better. Talk about our pasts, our present, the things we'd like to accomplish in the future. I want to hear it all._

There are these moments, Raul knows, that proves that Santos is more than just a wrestler looking for quick wins, more opportunities to defeat those in his way. They're more than just henchmen or whatever title WWE commentary may try to shoehorn them into. The hours Legado Del Fantasma spend together prove that, Santos honestly seeming to care about them as people, not just as warm bodies to do his bidding. He still remembers the feel of the man's hand as he'd come into the ring and carefully wiped some blood from Raul's lip after a particularly rough tag match that he and Joaquin had just won.

So he smiles and takes the glass of wine that Santos offers with a wink, turning to give Joaquin one as well. It's a quiet, gentle moment as the three of them shuffle to sit close to the tree, Joaquin sipping his drink as he looks up at it, dark eyes searching out each and every ornament hanging there, daunting in how expensive they look. Santos is talking, telling a story about his beginning days in wrestling, and Raul can't take his eyes off of him. How the Christmas lights reflect off of his eyes, flash against his teeth every time he laughs or grins.

It's here, at this Christmas, that Raul finally connects the dots of something that just feels like it's been part of his identity for the last few months, growing under the surface, claiming more and more of him until he couldn't hide from it any longer.

_I love this man._


	23. ECSpud

The weather is seasonal, which means mild and, in comparison to many other states in America currently, warm. Drake Maverick smiles, swinging his hand back and forth, EC3 rolling his eyes fondly next to him as he allows his own hand to move as well, their fingers interlaced as they walk on. After a few moments of quiet, Ethan clears his throat and looks over at Drake. "I'm sorry this is happening so late."

Drake's blue eyes are bright and calm as they ease over to watch Ethan, taking in the healthy skintone of his face, how he doesn't struggle to breathe as they move on. "Don't worry about it," he says, voice steady and certain as he squeezes his fingers. "I'm just glad you're well once more, sir."

"Yeah, but-" Ethan starts to protest before Drake lightly pushes him. "Drake-"

"No," he says, voice twisting with residual fear. "Sir, it's been a hard enough couple of years for you, I won't have you guilt tripping yourself over delaying Christmas decorating because of COVID. Ok?" He takes a breath, forces himself to relax, and examines Ethan's face once more. "You're healthy, we're here, it's Christmas Eve Eve, let's at least try to enjoy ourselves without dwelling on what ifs and regrets. Alright?"

Ethan sighs. "Alright," he concedes, lips twisting in a small smile. "One thing first though?"

Drake exhales. "What?" He falls quiet quickly when Ethan curls an arm around him and draws him snugly to his body, leaning in to kiss him slow and deep, Drake's free hand tensing against his jacket before relaxing and even drawing Ethan in closer.

It's always easy to forget when they're in public when Ethan gets affectionate like this, and Drake catches himself moaning into Ethan's mouth before pulling away, casting a quick glance around. Relieved no one seems to have seen them, he looks back up at his smug looking boyfriend. "Sir!" he exclaims, swatting his chest. "Hold on to that until later, _after_ we get done decorating."

"Oh fine," Ethan says, immediately pulling away and only leaving his hand curled around Drake's. "Later. After _decorating._ "

Something about the way he says it curls heat through Drake's chest, swooping into his stomach, and it takes everything in him to turn and continue walking through the already picked through selection of Christmas trees, trying to find one not too dry, too small, too tall, too thick- then he sees the perfect one out of the corner of his eye and turns slowly with a gasp. "Sir, that one," he exclaims, pointing it out and Ethan turns as well, squinting at it. All trees look the same to him, including this one, so he shrugs.

"That one? You sure? It isn't too puny looking?" Drake glowers up at him and Ethan laughs. "Ok, ok," he concedes. "I trust you when it comes to these things by now. Let's get someone to hoist it back to the car."

Getting someone to tie the tree to the car always leaves them with the job of untying it and getting it inside without absolutely damaging it once they get home. "Careful, sir," Drake exclaims once more as Ethan almost sends the tree careening into the doorway, but finally they get it safely inside and Ethan breathes a little easier, setting it up in the stand Drake had set out before they'd even left. Once it's up, they step back together and gaze at it.

"I like it," Ethan says, reaching out to ruffle Drake's hair. "Great choice."

"It's going to be gorgeous," Drake says, eyes shining as he pushes Ethan towards the string of lights, garland and boxes of ornaments cluttering the couch, eager to get to work. It takes a couple of hours of struggling to untangle the lights, twisting the garland around the branches, and then finding a place for all of the infamous Carter family ornaments, and various things Drake and Ethan have picked up over their many years together. They take their time, anyway, waving certain memorable ornaments at each other with soft smiles on their faces, recollecting various stories and reasons for each as they go.

It's probably the best afternoon Drake's had in awhile, and once they're done, and the tree is lit up, Drake's words are proven correct. Even Ethan stands in silent awe of their handiwork, hand once more reaching out for Drake's. Standing side by side, they examine their tree quietly before turning to smile at each other. "I love you," Ethan says. "Merry Christmas, Tiger."

"I love you too," Drake echoes softly. "Merry Christmas, sir."


	24. Cassamore

Enzo blinks awake, immediately feeling as jittery as if he'd drank ten cups of coffee within a minute. _Christmas Eve!_ he thinks, punching a fist upwards happily as he glances over at Cass, still fast asleep next to him. His face softens as he quietly shuffles out of bed, relieved Cass is a heavy sleeper as he wanders around the kitchen, starting coffee and making some toast while he waits and stares outside. His phone flashes a weather forecast at him and he shakes his head in disbelief. "60 degrees, what the fuuuu..."

His words fade away as he glances over his shoulder, realizing what such non-seasonable temps can mean. Rubbing his hands together, he grins brightly and sets on some legitimate breakfast choices, eggs, and sausages, pancakes and potatoes. He even squeezes a couple of oranges for fresh juice, setting it all aside to keep while he waits for Cass to smell or hear him at this and join him. Which, all in all, doesn't take too long, Enzo's head ducked over the skillet, poking at the eggs, when a large arm curls around his waist and draws him away from the heat, pulling him into a solid body, kisses immediately being pressed against his shoulders, up his neck.

He exhales slowly and smirks, glancing up into Cass' dark blue eyes. "Well, g'morning to you too" he greets him cheerfully. "Merry Christmas Eve, big guy."

Cass hums, still somewhat half-asleep, and he leaves his face buried in Enzo's mussed up hair, which is now mostly dark brown, with some stubborn streaks of blond here and there. He does blink awake at the first smell of coffee, Enzo waving a full mug of the stuff under his nose, and then comes to fully when he _tastes_ it, inhaling the steam slowly. Enzo beams when he blinks slowly, then, softly, "Merry Christmas Eve, 'Zo."

Enzo returns to the food then, serving and pouring as needed, and before long, the two of them are settling around their small table, examining the nice spread before them. "So what do you wanna do today?" he asks, figuring Cass has no idea what the weather's gonna be like.

His assumption is proved correct when Cass shrugs. "Stay warm? I guess."

"Shouldn't be too difficult," Enzo snorts, finding what he'd been reading on his phone and showing Cass. He has to move his phone aside quickly as Cass almost spits out a mouthful of eggs and potatoes as soon as he sees the projected temperature for the day.

"60?!"

"Yep." Enzo's grin spreads slow and easy over his face and Cass shakes his head, muttering in disbelief about it all. "Which, ya know what that means."

Cass looks up at him and pales. "Oh. NO. Zo- not that-"

"Yep!" Enzo chuckles. "I've always wanted to, and if not this year, then when?"

Cass grimaces, his shoulders slumping. "Fuck."

Once, years back, they'd been joking about things they wanted to do during the holidays. Top of Enzo's list had been caroling in Grand Central Station until security kicks them out, but Cass had always refused because of the weather, or needing to see their families, or any other little thing he can cling to keep this from coming true. Now, well... his chief arguments can't apply for this year and Enzo feels his victory creeping ever closer as Cass buries his face in his hands.

All in all, it doesn't take too much encouragement and wheedling. Cass always comes around in the end, anyway. So they walk side by side through New York streets, Enzo grinning brightly as they approach the main terminal, Cass' gaze flickering around. There are quite a few people around, despite everything, and his hope dwindles that Enzo will lose interest the more excied the man next to him becomes as he faces his biggest aspiration. "C'mon, big guy," Enzo urges, and Cass shuffles over to stand next to him.

The first song is rough, Enzo's more rapping styles knocking Cass off of his lyrical balance, but they make their way through Silent Night, and Holly Jolly Christmas without too much strain. By the time they begin Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, they're gelling a lot better, their different singing styles beginning to compliment each other, and they're gaining a bit of a crowd. Not many, the people are keeping their distance, but it's... it's nice. Cass begins to relax more and more into it, his deep, calm voice punctuated surprisingly well by Enzo's almost frenetic rapping styles. Like their most successful time as a tag team, it works better than it probably should, and when security finally comes to break things up, looking far from pleased at them disrupting foot traffic outside of the station, Cass goes willingly when Enzo grabs his hand and pulls him away.

They get away easily enough, and Enzo grins when Cass tosses his head back and laughs, a few blocks away from the Station. "See, I told ya it wouldn't be that bad." He tucks in closer to Cass, and peeks up at him. "Maybe some year, we can do it again some time. See if we can last a little bit longer before security Grinches it all to hell for everyone."

Cass smiles. Tucks some of the hair out of Enzo's eyes, examining his face. "I'd like that," he admits, leaning in to kiss Zo. "I'd like that a lot."

Enzo hums. "Good," he mumbles, twisting his fingers in Cass' jacket and beginning to tug him along back down the street back home.


	25. TJN

A/N: Happy holidays, all!!!

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," TJ sings under his breath as he arrives home following his first time traveling as X-Division champion. He grins and kneels down to peer in at- Cupcake and Pugsley as soon as he gets close enough to their pens. "Hello, my loves," he greets them. "Have you both been good for Daddy PAC, hm? Yeah? You have? I knew you would be."

His grin grows when he hears Neville walk up behind him, his foot nudging at TJ's. "I told you to stop calling me that," he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest, an unimpressed look on his face as TJ stands to look at him.

"Aw, c'mon, Nev, you know you love being a piggy daddy as much as I do," TJ teases him, ignoring the sour look on his face and stepping closer to drape his arms over Neville's shoulders.

"I do not," he huffs, but leans into TJ's warmth all the same, some of the frustration easing from his shoulders as TJ kisses him, soft and slow. "I am, however, glad you're home in time for the holidays." He rolls his eyes, stepping back and examining TJ critically. "How did the tapings go? I know you had... plans."

"I did," TJ sighs, fighting to keep a grin off of his face. "Oh, boy, did I." He steps away from Neville and hoists his duffel up onto the couch with a grimace. "Well, I mean. I had a plan to go and challenge Raju, ya know." He tugs out his Manik mask and examines it for a moment before settiing it aside. Neville comes up behind him and watches, frowning, as TJ digs further and pulls out the dark tones of the gear he has to wear, setting that aside as well. "I really, really thought I had this all in the bag, but then it all got away from me..." He's leaning forward just enough that Neville can't really see what else he's doing. "And, I mean, well, a rollup is just as good a way to win as any, right?"

Neville blinks, hard, as TJ straightens up, turns to look at him with a proud grin, and places the X-Division belt on his shoulder. Neville freezes, and stares at it, his eyes wide and fixed before he turns his attention back onto TJ. "You did it," he says in a low voice, searching TJ's face.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I did."

Something TJ's wanted since his alliance with Neville crashed and burned, something that was always a goal for him, no matter what company he may have been in at the time. A title, the accolades of being the best in a division that still feels like he's the king of to Neville, even after all of these years. The X-Division and 205 Live are vastly different, but Neville can see how and why TJ conflates the two in his mind."I'm proud of you," Neville finally says and TJ's face lights up with an incredible grin as he reaches forward, stroking Neville's cheek down to his jaw.

"Thank you," TJ murmurs. "I wanted this so badly. I can't even begin to describe it. To know that it's really, actually mine again..." He smiles. "It looks good on you." He snags the belt back a minute later and puts it back around his shoulder. "But don't get any ideas. I don't know if the wrestling world could survive another war between us."

Neville bares his teeth as he thinks about their origins in 205 Live, how disdain bred companionship, which steadily grew into this life they have together. Championships, and caretaking TJ's ridiculous pigs, and quiet nights spent in front of whatever video game TJ wants to play while Neville reads, the two of them curled up close. "Probably not," he agrees, bumping his forehead against TJ's. "Neither could we, I imagine."

It's a hell of an admission, and TJ swallows hard, before nodding slowly, giving in to his more vulnerable instincts. "I definitely couldn't. Not after everything."

"Thankfully we will never have to worry about that," Neville tells him simply. It's a fact, and that's the best way for either of them to treat it as such. Their slow lean into each other turns into hungry, deep kisses that quickly curl TJ's toes in his boots and he sighs out a groan, eager to properly get the holidays going now that he's free for a good couple of weeks.

"It's like a Christmas miracle," he laughs, lacing his fingers with Neville. "Here, I already thought I had more than my lucky share."

Neville rolls his eyes at him, hand resting on his hip. "I don't even want to know what else you may consider a Christmas miracle."

TJ pretends to think for a moment before leaning forward and kissing him again. "Pretty much always you, babe."

Neville huffs out a laugh but remains in place, hugging him back. "I think I just pissed someone off severely when they made me fall in love with you."

"oh, ha-ha," TJ mumbles, pressing closer to him. When Neville actually laughs, TJ knows he doesn't mean it and plays along with the joke, lightly swatting him. This leads to a fake scrabble between the two of them, which Neville wins when he trips TJ and sends him face first into the couch. Neville laughs smugly and hovers over him, unsurprised when TJ hooks his feet behind Neville's heels and sends him down as well, sprawling over TJ. "Merry Christmas," he smirks, wrapping his arms around Neville and squeezing him.

Neville huffs, and rolls his eyes, but there's more than a hint of contentment there. "Merry Christmas," he grouses, before claiming TJ's mouth in another, lazy kiss.


End file.
